


One More Riddle

by RumbleFish14



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Emotions, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gay Character, Happy Ending, Kissing, Mutual Pining, Nygmobblepot Week 2018, Riddles, Secret Crush, Self-Doubt, Sorry Not Sorry, Too sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 04:12:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16946784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RumbleFish14/pseuds/RumbleFish14
Summary: Oswald takes care of Edward after Butch tried to strangle him...what should have happened after...





	One More Riddle

The pain was excruciating…plain and simple. He’s had worse, hell, he’d been shot by Jim Gordon at least once, but this was worse somehow. At least that bullet went all the way through, what he was dealing with now felt awful in every way.

Edward sat on the sofa in Oswald Cobblepot's living room, by a fire no doubt. Even doing nothing hurt badly. He swallowed as carefully as he could, but the pain was instant. It felt like molten lava was being poured down his throat for hours on end with no ending in sight and all he did was swallow.

Butch. It was all his fault. That big lug of a man decided to strangle him at Oswald's Election Party held at The Sirens. Edward knew he may have deserved some sort of punishment for ultimately tricking the one handed man, but near decapitation from being strangled by one large hand and one metal hand, was not on his list.

Oswald saved him, just like Edward knew he would. They were fated to be together. Either as friends, potential enemies, or maybe their paths were only destined to cross for a brief period of time, he wasn’t sure yet. But his little Penguin saved him. His… Edward wishes that dark soul of a man was his. 

Red and purple welts littered the smooth, pale skin of his neck. That metal hand had nearly crushed his windpipe. Even though Butch was pulled off quickly, the damage was done. He could see the full imprint of Butch's hands against his neck, it was a mixture of red, purple and nearly black bruises.

It was ugly enough, he could deal with that. But the pain…he wouldn’t want that for anyone. Breathing hurt, swallowing hurt, turning his neck the wrong way hurt, talking was the worst though. His voice came out as a broken, fractured gasp. His voice raw and damaged and he wasn’t sure if that would fade or alter his voice forever.

He didn’t want Oswald to hate the sound of his voice. His dear Penguin said on more than one occasion how soothing his voice was, comforting in a way that made The Crime Lord of Gotham feel safe and made him smile. Now he might lose that…and Edward was at a loss.

Oswald had kindly taken him back to his fathers mansion. Edward felt a little better knowing that he exposed the real Butch to Oswald, but he knew his little Penguin would miss his friend, his partner. And as much as Oswald wanted to kill Butch for nearly killing him, the police were called, and Butch was taken into custody.

Edward let Oswald take him home. They had yet to speak and Edward wasn’t sure if that was a bad sign or not. Oswald deposited him by the fire that was made for him and then excused himself with a quiet promise to be back. 

The shuffling steps let him know Oswald was coming closer as opposed to a member of his staff. Edward would know that walk from anywhere. He tensed at the sound as it got louder. The shuffling stopped as Oswald took a seat next to him on the sofa. He wanted to look over so bad, to see his friends face, to take comfort in those dark eyes but he couldn’t look up.

Thank whatever devil was lurking around them. Oswald was the first to break the silence.

“Ed, how are you feeling?”

Oswald's voice was deeply concerned, bordering on emotional. It made his heart flutter. That and remembering how angry he became when Butch hurt him. A dark thought crossed his mind, getting hurt on purpose to gain that from his friend. To get that same concerned look each time his life was put in danger. He shook it away for a later day, so he could properly answer his friend.

“I-I’m…fine.” Even to him it sounded bad. He couldn’t even clear his throat to try again. His hand came up to softly massage the bruises. 

“Oh, don’t talk. Don’t strain yourself Edward. I wasn’t thinking. It was insensitive to ask you.” Oswald nearly stuttered out his apology, feeling guilty. 

Edward smiled quiet fondly at the worry. Oh, what a feeling that was. He placed a gentle hand on Oswald's arm and squeezed enough to see dark eyes looking up at him with surprise. He didn’t try and speak yet, but they shared that look. The look only two people deeply connected to each other could decipher and understand. 

“I brought you some tea.” Oswald held the small, steaming tea cup up so Edward could see it. “I’m sure it’s not going to be pleasant to drink anything, but the heat may help with the swelling.”

Edward took the cup that was offered to him with steady hands. Oswald's hands, however, were shaking. He was nervous. That calmed Edward down a bit. At least he wasn’t the only one. “Thank you.” It sounded like a demon was talking in his place. Gravely and rough, raw. He expected to taste blood each time he spoke. The tea warmed his cold hands and he brought it up to his mouth, gently taking a sip and immediately regretted it. It burned in the worst way. He shut his eyes as the sweet tasting acid rubbed over raw tissue.

“Edward, I’m so sorry I allowed this to happen. I should have known Butch's story didn’t sound truthful and I put you at risk. I believed you didn’t think I would win, and I pushed you away…my dear Edward.”

At those words, such sweet words from a man he knew to be vicious when needed, Edward placed a hand over Oswald's arm, squeezing in that reassuring way. “It wasn’t you Oswald. I know how much you wanted to believe Butch.” He winced as the words came spilling out painfully. “And despite his actions, as questionable as they were, I believe he does care about you. My sudden presence have pushed him into uncharted territory.”

“Edward, you don’t have to—”

Edward held his hand up to stop the sentence. “Yes, I do. His place beside you had been compromised by me, a convicted murderer and lunatic,” he smiled fondly at the word. He rather liked being a little loony. “H-he only did what he thought was right.” 

He finished with another wince as his throat pounded. It hurt too much to keep talking but those words needed to be said. Oswald needed to hear them. So he didn’t blame himself. Without looking at his friend, he leaned forward and set the steaming cup down. As soon as he was free of the dangerous liquid, long arms enveloped him in a tight hug.

“Oh, Ed…” Oswald’s voice cracked, and he lightly squeezed him. “You’re a true friend. Both for what you did, the risk you took, and for admitting your reluctance and acceptance to someone who nearly killed you.”

The hug was awkward only because of the position. His arms were pinned to his sides, both of Oswald’s around him. He couldn’t hug him back like he wanted to. But the warmth from that hug wrapped around him like a thick blanket. Giving him that homey, safe from harm feeling.

“Uh, Oswald…” he trailed off, not wanting his friend to get the wrong idea about breaking the hug.

Oswald’s eyes opened wide in embarrassment and let go immediately. “Oh my gosh, I’m so so—”

Edward pulled him into the hug properly as soon as Oswald released him. His chin rested on a boney shoulder, putting pressure on his neck but the responding hug was worth it.

“Oh, I thought…” he trailed off. “I thought it was unwanted.”

“Not…at all.” He said softly, smiling. “Just a bad…position.” Edward closed his eyes and let that feeling spread all over him. This was the most they had ever touched.

“Thank the Demons watching over Gotham…I thought I’d lost you.” Oswald felt tears prickle his eyes, so he squeezed harder, laying his head down against Edward’s shoulder.

Thank the Demons…Edward replayed in his head. Not Gods, demons. For there were no Angel’s in Gotham. There never had been. He didn’t want them either. He wanted the Demons and darkness…and one Penguin.

“You won’t lose me,” he held back the whimper as he spoke. “I’m right here Ozzie.”

Oswald pulled back and gave him a confused smile. He’d called him Ozzie. Edward hadn’t done that before. But Edward knew he liked it. 

The comfortable silence pushed all around them. The words were said, from both of them. Words they had kept inside far too long. Oswald was afraid of losing him and he was afraid to be lost. Their stake in this current situation was clear for the both of them.

“I guess the tea didn’t help much.” He smiled at Edward’s cute smile. “I may have something else that might help.”

That flutter in his heart thrummed through him again. He loved being taken care of by his Penguin like this. To have his undivided attention was something to be cherished and fought over. It was pure and good.

Even knowing nothing aside from heavy pain medication would suppress the pain, he asked anyways. “Yeah? Such as...”

Edward ignored the way his voice sounded. He knew it was raw and deep, but that’s not what he heard. He could hear the underlying need and want in his voice. He wanted whatever this man would give him. 

Imagine his surprise when Oswald gave that nearly sinister smile and scooted closer. Just that one movement had goosebumps moving across his arms. He kept still as Oswald moved as close as he could, sitting with nearly one leg over his. 

Edward lost his composure when Oswald leaned up and in as he gently laid a kiss on the heavily bruised skin of his neck. He gasped at the touch. It was so light that if another one hadn’t been placed just to the right of it, he’d have sworn it never happened. 

The more kisses to his neck, the lighter he felt. Oswald’s lips were soft and sweet, spreading that warmth throughout his body. Edward jutted out his chin, giving Oswald more room. 

“Ozzie…” he gasped. Now that his hands worked once more, one went into dark, soft hair, pulling at the back of Oswald’s neck to keep him close. The other went around his middle, pulling him a little closer.

Oswald left kisses over every bruise. Over the vertical lines from Butch's meaty fingers, circles from his thumbs that dug into the hollow under his chin. He kissed over a cut from where that metal grip had broken the skin and Edward never felt anything quite as good before. 

“Does it hurt?” Oswald asked in a deeper voice, one laced with lust and need.

Edward shook his head because no, those silky lips felt so good against his skin. Healing him one kiss at a time. He pulled Oswald gently back by his hair until their eyes met. “You make me feel like I can fly.”

Oswald was shocked to say the least. He hadn’t expected that. “Flying is good, or at least I assume it is.” Shock was replaced with melancholy as he looked away.

Edward didn’t understand the suddenness of the change in moods. He brushed a gentle hand over Oswald’s smooth face. Tracing a thumb over his cheek bone, then over thin lips. “Why so sad little Penguin?” he rasped. Wishing for his normal voice.

“I want you to fly Ed. Fly high and free.” He smiled briefly before it too disappeared. “But Penguins don’t fly.”

Edward had never heard anything so cute in his entire life. So child-like and unsure of himself. It was a breath of fresh air after seeing the Crime Lord of Gotham. Two sides of the same coin. He laughed fondly at his Penguin, laying his forehead against his so they were nose to crooked nose.

“I never was, am always to be,/No one ever saw me, nor ever will,/And yet I am the confidence of all/To live and breathe on this terrestrial ball./What am I?” 

“A riddle…” Oswald smiled. How much he loved Edward’s riddles, that big brain of his.

“Yes my little penguin,” he swallowed, trying to let his spit slick the way so his words sounded more like him. “The answer is what I want from you.”

He watched Oswald figure it out little by little. Edward kept their heads together, their fingers now laced together as they rested on his knee. “What am I Ozzie?”

Oswald smiled big and bright as a single tear made it’s slow decent down his cheek. “Tomorrow. You are tomorrow.”

“No, WE are tomorrow Ozzie.” He whispered just as he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Oswald’s lips. “You and me.”


End file.
